ph_logs | what arms have lain under my head til morning? [mixed]

Tarantulas escapes through the back door, transforming and scurrying off into the woods as fast as he can with Ryja's mask still clutched in one pedipalp. The loss of his house and shop would be a major blow, but he prefers it to hanging around to see what River's reaction will be. He'll hide in the cave, he thinks. Its disorienting effects will keep anyone else from following his trail -- but it's not to be.

Tucked up against his chitin by a length of wire, the bloodstone cracks in two, and Tarantulas's spark pulses in his chest.

He gasps in sudden agony, an involuntary transformation nearly sending him crashing face-first into a tree. He clutches at the trunk, shocked gasps of pain falling from his throat. It hurts, like nothing else has ever hurt before in all his long checkered life. His spark is being squeezed in a vice --

He falls to his knees as the pain suddenly peaks -- a warmth like blood flows down into his stomach -- there's a writhing, as if a court of worms have taken up residence in his flesh -- and then, his stomach begins to swell --

Oh. Oh Primus, it's really happening.

"Erik!" he shrieks at the top of his lungs, throwing dignity and indeed, his own personal safety to the winds. "Erik, please! I need your help!"

Tarantulas?! Erik leaps to action without a second thought. He's at home, only dressed halfway in a simple shirt and trousers, so he shoves his feet into his shoes and races out the door just as soon as they're tied. He's barely more than a blur as he streaks forward following the faint scent of Tarantulas on the air. It's growing stronger, laced with pungent fear and pain, until at last the spider comes into view.

"Tarantulas, what's happened?!" He's kneeling at Tarantulas's side now, horror in his eyes as he notices the man's bloating stomach. He can hear something like... a second heartbeat. Dear God.

"What have you done?!"

"Something -- hhhh -- something wonderful." Tarantulas looks up, his yellow eyes alight with something like religious mania. When he grins, his teeth are stained with his own, peculiar green blood; when he reaches out and grips Erik's arm, his hands show white knuckles through the fur. "At last, I've achieved...something I feared would be unrepeatable --"

He chokes, clutching at his stomach. A spasm rocks his body, and he coughs up a mouthful of blood at the ground by Erik's feet. "I need," he groans, voice thick with pain and damaged tissues, "I need Sally. Sally Boyle. She's the only one with the -- hngh! -- the necessary expertise -- Erik! Please take me to her...I fear I won't make it on my own..."

Tarantulas dislikes unnecessary injury, but his pain tolerance is high; for him to declare himself unable to get himself somewhere he needs to be, the pain setting his limbs to shaking must be...astronomical.

A long and hollowed-out scream is building in the back of Erik's mind. That second set of vital signs were not just in his imagination. What had Tarantulas done to achieve this? There's madness in the spider's eyes that speaks of so many evils that could have been committed to bring this to wrought. But here he is at Erik's feet trusting in the vampire to get him to his best chance at success. Tarantulas is at his mercy, and mercy he shall have.

"I was an orphan. I won't allow you to create another one."

He scoops Tarantulas up in his arms as easily as a feather, and as soon as he's sure his hold is secure he races off to Sally's home. He can't go at his top speed, or even close to it, because he cannot risk what it might do to this rapidly developing pregnancy.

Every extra second it takes is agony to both of them. But, at last, they make it to their destination. Erik can't use a hand to knock so he bellows louder than a car horn, "Sally Boyle open your door!"

At the last possible second Tarantulas remembers to snatch up Ryja's mask and hold it close to his chest, his spider's legs curling up tightly around his shoulders and chest to better fit within Erik's arms.

"I owe you all such an enormous debt of gratitude," he begins to mutter, the writhing of his flesh loosening his lips. "Everyone who -- contributed to this moment --" He whimpers again, panting through his teeth. "I'll admit! Some of my -- selections -- were made in part with vengeance in mind, but! That's all in the past now. How can I fail to forgive the people who helped me make this possible?"

He grinds his face into Erik's chest as the stretched-thin skin of his stomach begins to pulse with the thrashing limbs of some tiny creature. "It doesn't matter what happens to me anymore!" he snarls. "I'll accept any consequence, except those that would bring harm or separate me from this precious child!"

Despite his agony, it would be impossible to detect any insincerity in his voice.

Sally opens up to see what all the hubbub is about, looking surprised. "Erik? Tarantulas? What's going o--- Oh good Lord." She immediately staggers back at the--- oh goodness, the wriggling inside of Tarantulas' gut. She doesn't even recognize this for what it is at first; sure, it's pretty common for pregnant folks to feel some kicking, but this is far from normal.

"What's going on?" She stands aside anyway. She knows she can call someone if she needs help but leaving them outside while she demands an explanation won't do any good. They can walk and talk.

"I'll remind you of these words when this is done," Erik says through gritted teeth. How many people did Tarantulas hurt to achieve this? How many? He needs to check on River.

Erik cannot blame Sally for her reaction. It's about on par with his own. But he wastes no time walking through the door with Tarantulas still hunched in his arms. "I don't know how, but he is in labor. He asked me to bring him here to you. Please tell me you know what to do? The state of things as they are, I worry his spawn may rips its way out of him if we don't do something quickly."

Tarantulas starts laughing hysterically, the sound even more cracked and wheezy than usual until suddenly he begins to couch up more of his green blood. "Damn it...preferably it will not come to that. But I suspect surgical intervention is required."

He explains, in agonized fits and starts: "This body -- doesn't possess reproductive organs. I'm not -- hg! -- certain what's going on in there right now, but. I doubt it will bode well for the rest of me. Dr. Boyle, I -- I find myself in need of your expertise."

He winces, claws digging into Erik's arms and clothing. "Preferably soon?"

Oh jeez. Sally has never done surgery in her life. She's done plenty of injections, sure, and first aid, including stitches, but a surgeon she is not.

Still, someone has to help. And it's too late to call anyone else. "Um--- Okay. I----" She looks around. She's just moved into Arthur's farmhouse, so she doesn't even have a lot of her clinic stuff. "Bathtub. This way." She hurriedly leads Erik to the bathroom, getting into her medicine cabinet and rummaging. Her items are a little more advanced than what others might have, at least. She won't exactly have an epidural, but...

The laughter puts Erik on even higher alert. It's no laughing matter, any of this, so of course it's worrisome. And the more Tarantulas explains, the worse the picture becomes.

"Good idea." Erik carries his precious cargo immediately to the tub. No time for things like fetching pillows for comfort. They're only doomed to get messy anyway.

"Now seems like a good time to mention that my blood has healing properties. It can seal wounds upon immediate contact. But what it cannot do is replace blood loss."

"Ahhh -- unfortunate." Tarantulas manages to get his knees under him as Erik puts him down, reluctant both to let its cold sides touch his stomach or to put any more weight on his back. His hands and claws gingerly press at his sides and his distended gut; through labored breaths he mutters, "I fear several of my organs have been displaced. And there's --" He winces. "Internal bleeding. We haven't much time. No, never mind that," he says to Sally as she begins to uncap an analgesic. "There's no time."

A note of panic can be heard in his voice.

"Shush. I'm the doctor, you came to my house, you listen to me now," Sally barks with a confidence that she doesn't really feel. The only way for this situation to be under control is for someone to take control.

Sally shoves some pills and a cup of water at Tarantulas. "You. Take that."

Then, she turns to Erik. "I don't have a scalpel. But I do have a work knife. I'm going to sterilize it and make the best incisions I can. What I need you to do, is make sure you have some of your blood ready to seal up wounds as quickly as possible after they're made. Can you do that? Once I have the baby, you're up."

That authority in her voice is a blessing as far as Erik is concerned. He's no expert in child birth and someone here has to be in charge. It's not going to be Tarantulas.

"If you can give me a sterile receptacle to hold it and a syringe and I will be at your service." That method worked well when Chris used it on River.

Tarantulas's mouth snaps shut, except for when he knocks back the pills and water. Sally's take-charge attitude has successfully cowed him -- for the moment. Probably best to keep a careful eye on him, though; if he feels it necessary, he will grab a knife and start cutting his own damn self.

And given that he's entirely responsible for getting himself into this situation in the first place, Tarantulas's definition of "necessary" is absolutely not to be trusted.

"Done and done." Sally produces a syringe with a needle for blood drawing for Erik. Why does she have all these extremely specific things that are ostensibly from work just littered around her bathroom? Arthur must be having an interesting time acclimating to this.

In the sink, Sally hurriedly dumps an entire bottle of alcohol onto the work knife that had been at her hip. It's wasteful but time is short. Then without further ado, she climbs into the bathtub on her knees and readies the blade. "This is going to suck," she warns. "Hold your breath and close your eyes."

The tip of the blade sinks shallowly into skin, avoiding any wiggling limbs with care. She slides the knife up, unzipping Tarantulas' abdomen like a coat, and then---

The faint sound of an infant coughing, then crying. Sally removes the squalling, blood-drenched bundle of new life from the opening and quickly vacates the bathtub to make room for Erik. "There you are, angel!" There is a tremor of stress in Sally's voice, but it doesn't detract from the sweetness of her tone. "Let's get you cleaned up and then you can go see your papa."

Do people not just have these things in their bathrooms at all times? Erik sees nothing out of the ordinary about it. The moment he's got the implements in hand, he uses one long nail to slice open his wrist and let that blood pour into the glass. Credit where it's due, he did wash his hands first. He can practically hear Max berating him in the back of his mind for not washing his hands.

The moment he hears that crying he turns around and... that doesn't look like the spider-child he was expecting... No, no, now isn't the time. He snaps out of it and starts using the syringe to apply his blood to Tarantula's abdomen, sealing it up as best he can. He's still more than a little worried about what kind of internal trauma Tarantulas has but he can't do much about that. All he can do is keep Tarantulas from bleeding out all the way.

"Do you hear that? Your child lives."

"Hhaaaah -- I can hear it --" Tarantulas wheezes for breath, his surprisingly broad chest heaving while his fingernails and claws dig tiny grooves into the walls of Sally's bathroom. The pain had been sudden and blinding -- he'd lost time, although hopefully no more than a few seconds. He grits his teeth against the emptiness in his guts, the place where Erik has injected him itching and writhing as soft tissues rush to reknit themselves. He could take over. He could direct Erik's attention further in, where his organs were crushed and distorted by the weight of his child. It would help him heal more easily -- but he doesn't care about that. He doesn't care about anything, except --

"Where is it? Is it healthy?" he rasps, straining to see past Erik's shoulders to Sally, and the bundle in her arms.

The baby girl does not much resemble a spider, but she very much does look like Tarantulas, especially in the arrangement of her butter-yellow eyes -- two human, six arachnid, arranged like smooth little stones on her forehead -- and the cap of cobalt blue fur on her head. The rest of her skin is grey and bare, and she squalls fretfully as Sally gently cleans her up.

On her forehead are two little nubs, hard as bone. Where in the world did Tarantulas acquire such a child?

Edited 2024-04-07 05:57 (UTC)

what arms have lain under my head til morning? [mixed]

2/2 [Erik+Tarantulas thread starts here][cw: pregnancy-adjacent body horror]

[cw: pregnancy-adjacent body horror forever]

[CW: pregnancy-adjacent body horror will continue until morale improves]

[CW: pregnancy-adjacent body horror will continue until morale improves]

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MORE PREGNANCY CW

MORE PREGNANCY CW

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cw: self harm/blood/more pregnancy body horror

cw: gore, medical horror